


Canon in D (The Guitar Duo)

by misbegotten



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: Liner notes, with sheet music.





	Canon in D (The Guitar Duo)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



> The muffin is entirely james' fault, though it's not her fandom. So yeah, dedicated to james. Errors are mine, naturally.

**Morning:**

Muted plucking of a guitar string. Rowing, if the wind is right.

Robbie whistling in the shower.

The cat weaving 'twixt two pairs of feet under the table.

Coffee. Croissant. Egg and bacon for one, egg and cheese for the other. Sometimes a muffin…

"You! Ate the last muffin!" Robbie's voice muffled as he searches. "You… _tosser_!"

Incredulous snort. Robbie calls it endearing. Followed by a peal of laughter only Robbie is privileged to hear.

 **Variations on a Theme** :

Sometimes _Danse Macabre_ , sometimes _Agnus Dei_ ; might as well be hung for lambs -- never mind, Robbie soothes. Innocent content to remain true to her name as long as they continue to produce results. _Dona nobis pacem_.

Plodding through mud, cobbled streets. Plods. Observation, deduction, closure. Human tragedies. Human hearts broken. 

**Evening:**

A pint, sometimes a glass of Scotch. Shadowed thoughts, casual touch. Solace, each other.

Something ridiculously healthy cooked by James to make up for an absence of lunch or, worse for Robbie's waistline, a sausage roll on the run. Feed the cat too. 

Nonsense on the telly, or BBC Four. Snogging. 

Lazy massage. Robbie is enamoured of James' nimble fingers. James draws out indecent sounds. True and proper worship. Smothered laughter turns to sighs.

Often, calls in the wee hours. Death waits for no men. Rain and shivering, tepid coffee later. 

Less frequently, den of heat under the duvet. Tangled limbs. You snore. No, you snore. The moggy purrs.

**Reprise:**

"Tosser!"

Laughter.

_I am content; that is a blessing._

**Author's Note:**

> Pachelbel, _Romans_ , Fielding, et al., I thank you. Also those who have left such kind feedback, I worship at your altars.


End file.
